Game Recognized

What a public sight I saw recently. A fat (white) man — grossly obese like David Fatrelle after a pastry bender, arms like bloated Ganges corpses, manboobs jutting so forcefully into the air I thought they might spontaneously projectile lactate — was in the midst of a tiff with his (white) girlfriend.

His cute, slender, perfectly fuckable (white) girlfriend.

She was crying, her face contorted and flushed with emotional discharge. A lover’s argument kind of face. She was at his side, then walking ahead of him and turning to plead with him, then walking backward in front of him to keep pace with his uninterrupted stride, (or, in his case, shamble). Every so often she would reach out and grip his ham hock solicitously, to punctuate a question or coax a response.

He said nothing, mostly ignoring her except for the occasional exasperated frown. He barely acknowledged her, brushing off her touches and changing his peripatetic course so that she’d have to jog after him to keep him with earshot. His body language was as dismissive as his silence. This cute girl who’d have no trouble finding ten other non-obese men willing to fuck her and love her and dry her tears was chasing down a land manatee and begging for his tenderness.

BEGGING.

His tits were bigger than hers.

BEGGING.

Game recognized, fat man.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen similar scenes, but it was one of the more egregious examples of the awesome power of Game to overcome almost any male deficiency. How did I know he had Game? I knew indirectly, through his girlfriend’s reactions. But I also knew by the way he hauled his heft.

Fat as he was, underneath all that triple-chinned blubber I could discern the contours of a shitlord’s ZFG mug. His eyes, in permanent squint through larded lids, projected but one emotion: cocky self-confidence. He never wavered under the onslaught of her tears; there was no second act where her entreaties broke his situational command. He walked on, he smirked, he pushed her off, and he never appeased her implied demand for comforting reassurance. A fat man walking with a chiseled man’s self-regard. The alpha attitude was all over him, and when I saw that I understood how it came to be this thin, sexy girl was chasing after him, coiled in a tempest of dread that he might leave her and take the warm swaddle of his pendulous milktits with him.

Since forever, I have been shocked at what certain at-risk HBs will settle for in dudes. I like to believe that NAWALT – that somewhere there are some Alpha Sh!tlord fathers who managed to embue some simple Common Sense in their daughters – but some chicks simply do not have any conscious analytic rational ability to disassociate their life’s choices from their Hamster’s tinglezzes.

The flip side of that is that you can use her horrible choices as a filter against her – if you learn that a chick once messed around with some real ogre of a pr!ck, then you can write her off as “MOYC” material – in fact, she’ll come to disgust you so much that you can write her off as someone you would ever even want to dip it in [much less actually develop fee1ingz for].

Right. The hormesis of former fatties. What ugly morbid obesity does not kill me makes me stronger. This also explains why the PUA community is populated by former nerds and social outcasts. Their poisoned childhoods yielded great adult strengths.

So long as it is a measured dose and so long as poison per se does not become an object of worship. “A little poison now and then: that makes for pleasant dreams. And much poison at last for a pleasant death” (ASZ).

A girl will put up with a lot to ride a telephone pole, and man knowing he packs an anaconda will have “automatic game” built in reflexively. If he had a two-inch chubby she had to dig to find, it wouldn’t be playing out this way.

Subject is a disgusting fatbody, and no amount of game can make up for the basic masculine dignity lost.

The promise of game and pick-up is to bring manliness back to a culture of feminized cuckolds and confused daddyless whores. The more it succumbs to the (((project))) of pornifying human interaction, the less effective it is and the less worthy it is. All you are doing is teaching losers to masturbate more effectively, be it into a sock or into a latex-wrapped cunt-dump surrounded by chubby necrotic thighs and anomie. Frottage to distract from existential dread.

They have left the regions where it is hard to live; for they need warmth. One still loves one’s neighbor and rubs against him; for one needs warmth. … They have their little pleasures for the day, and their little pleasures for the night …

— ASZ

Posts like these encourage losers to be ever more comfortable in their loserdom, the precise equivalent of telling Kelly Frownmouth the 200-lb 8th grader that “it’s what’s inside that counts.” Your monomania amounts to telling the online dork squad that they can be posthuman pots of obese flesh waddling the earth (they’ve got that part of “pick up” down without encouragement), but to game all is to forgive all.

I will follow the great Greg Eliot’s practice of withdrawing from a “discussion” once the johnny-come-lately brigade starts chiming-in to declare their discovery of faggotry everywhere.

I understand why you ultimately interpret all things homoerotically — you were taught that way by kikes who hate you. What I don’t understand is why your nature hasn’t revolted against such unnatural programming by now, especially considering your claim to being fully “sentient.”

Ahhhhh! The King, at it again, I see. A third rate “Elmer Gantry” at his finest, with some good ol’ down-home “Huey Long” thrown in to leaven his lumpy, uncouth mass.

What happened King? They throw you off the corner and steal your soapbox? Where is your LORD now? Blessing all those athletes who pray for base hits or to score touchdowns? That sh*t must keep Him mighty busy, eh?

Heartiste…it used to be that stout men of heft were preferred through history, and with good reason: Men of GZF’s generous appetites, solidity, who could quickly overpower a muscular man by simply sitting on him, and who clearly had at least enough self-management to stay well-fed in starving pre-capitalist nations and unashamedly enjoy the prosperity in today’s near capitalist ones. A lot of people don’t realize the obvious and are brainwashed by the extreme left to look like concentration camp victims and be ashamed of their ‘privilege’ from winning over all the lousy societies elsewhere in the world…More fools they.

I see the return of this type more and more today, and women who realize these are real men. For myself, I gave up weights for a good daily walk and three hearty meals long ago, been like Cleveland or Harding since middle age, had a ball, attract lovely women who realize I don’t care but do love a good time and sharing the joy, and never looked back.

There are always exceptions. The vast majority of obese men don’t have got girlfriends. Occasionally you’ll even see a hot, feminine looking lesbian, but they don’t represent anything other than a freak occurrence.

But in any relationship, doesn’t the “balance of power” shift once children are involved. Can a man truly be ZFG with the mother of his children? I don’t dispute the power of game, but how does it apply with children.

Women are like the ocean in their turbulent beauty; they’re dangerous if you forget their true nature. Men are that great rock the waves crash against, unmoving and unperturbed.

How do you game your wife, the mother of your children? She’s a crazy-bitch. You know it, SHE knows it. So let her be crazy. Let her yell. Let her cry. Let her be a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. React the same way that you would with a child. If a five year old is angry and screaming, are you going to get into a shouting match with him? (If you answer “Yes”, then you’re a shit father).Treat her the same. She doesn’t have the emotional maturity that you do. She thinks that she’s more emotionally mature than you are, and will tell you so. Let her. She’s a child, as all women are. When you start thinking of them as children, you’ll let go of your Blue Pill beliefs and start living life as a Man.

Game is an art, not a science. You don’t need to apply ZFG to every aspect of your relationship with your wife. You two will have clearly bonded already. All you need to do is be that unwavering rock in her life that she breaks upon. When she’s done, tease her. Make her laugh at herself. Just don’t argue back. It’s pointless and counterproductive. She’s not logical, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that she is. She’s an adult woman, biologically driven to jump at the best offer in front of her. She can’t help it, and being a woman she has no self-control to stop herself from doing things that she knows are stupid and wrong. That’s where the hamster comes in; no matter how stupid and wrong it may be, she’ll convince herself that it’s smart and good. Because she’s going to do it anyway, and wants to feel good about herself while doing it.

And that word “feel” is the key to everything you need to know about women. They don’t think. They just feel. If you argue with her, she’s not going to remember your sound, logical argument. She’s just going to remember how bad you made her feel. If you tease her into submission then play with her, like a child, she’s going to remember feeling like you’re fun.

“ZFG” is a marketing term to get customers to a relaxed buddhist detachment before receiving the Red Suppository. It is a means to an end, and anyone who mistakes it for a philosophy complete unto itself is a consumerist dupe.

Of course you give fucks about certain selective things. To so strenuously advertise one’s not giving a fuck is to give many fucks about the projection of not giving a fuck. One normally and most healthily learns this lesson about trying to hard in high school. It is a contradiction that others can smell on the initiate, but understandable as a step up from nerdishness. Only if it doesn’t become fetishized into a philosophy of life, as tends to happen with long-time believers who never quite got out of the beginner phase — or old men playing young again.

Women are not drawn to men without direction, passion, and command. And directionlessness is a direction. If you managed to procreate, you should have intuited this truth somewhere along the way.

I never thought I would say this, but–given that at times lately I’ve had the perilous intuition I was walking into a Hasbara afterhours party– I thought to myself, “Boy, if Greg Eliot, GBFM(TM), and old king matt king don’t show up and push some weight around here, the weeds will have the run of the place . . . .”

So, though I’ve disagreed with the man, nipped his heels, even mocked him– I cannot deny he has a +140 IQ, great depth of reading, and his own, idiosyncratic and perhaps cranky, but: serious and sincere outlook.

So even if it’s only to preach something orthogonal to the OPs and the committed commentariat, at least he’s keeping it, by his lights, real. And for that I will say–

high IQ =/= experience with women. or ‘game’. and trolling (yet again) to snark at CH adds no value but only serves his personal agenda.

And I disagree that queen B brings valueble discussion (push some weight) moreso than he projects his own sexual frustrations, lack of social accumen and general introverted misery materialized through ascii characters.

lets be real:
why would an individual continuously attempt to disparage CH and the general commentary over a subject matter he has overwhelmingly proven he has no experience in, while the said subject matter and confirmed real world results have helped and continue to help men for nearly a decade?

queen B is not an asset to this forum. hes a stephen hawkins level troll.

If you want to see your children, in your home, running to you, “daddy!” and not some hapless bf of the week, you better be ZFG. ZERO. Maybe negative. It’s the only thing keeping my offspring in my house. Even then it is a rotten period in history to be a father. Use every tool available and use them well.

I never thought I would say this, but–given that at times lately I’ve had the perilous intuition I was walking into a Hasbara afterhours party– I thought to myself, “Boy, if Greg Eliot, GBFM(TM), and old king matt king don’t show up and push some weight around here, the weeds will have the run of the place . . . .”

I appreciate the shout-out… my absence has been caused by being put into perma-mod about a month or so ago, and only a few of my posts showing up some days later, after a thread has already run its course.

I’ve been periodically calling out CH to explain himself, but with no answer forthcoming, and no escape from my current limbo.

I’m hoping, at least, the silence on his part is due to shame… shamed to admit that either he’s been given some marching orders by you-know-who, or some clown like Strapon has made a big fat donation to have the field cleared of any who would keep the JIDF in line around here.

He seems to allow the more overt (and often ridiculous) Joo-baters to continue their shticks unabated… after all, that sort of thing is allowed opposition, because it lends itself to the yid memes of “mental illness” and such.

For awhile, I thought Matt King was under the same ban… it’s heartening to see him chime in again.

That’s a striking contrast with a analogous (horrific, Bizarro-world) scene in my hometown.

I was stopped at the main traffic light in town. Coming my way was a skinny beta walking his fattie girlfriend across the street from the train station to the steak house, presumably so she could put away a 36 ouncer and he could dab one of her chins. She had at least a hundred pounds on him. He was nervously mate guarding her, eyes darting around, and not for oncoming traffic, there wasn’t any.

Mate guarding a land mass. And she was grinning from ear to ear, plainly enjoying the fact that a male life form, no matter how low, was actually attending to her. It was disgusting, but like a car wreck, I just had to look.

In some way, HtB, you have to hope that, as a couple, if they were to have children, that Nature will be kind and average out their extreme (fat girl and skinny man) genes and produce some normal, healthy, attractive children. And maybe that is the unspoken plan for each of them. One has to hope.

The world is a sausage party, hence why low value females can attract males quite easily.

Bodybuilding.com has several threads dedicated to creating fake female online dating profiles where they get hundreds of messages from desperate incels looking for any smidgen of positive female attention:

This was a fattie. There was also another thread where the fake female profile was not only fat, but hideously ugly that had the facial features of a wild pig and lots of unwanted hair on her face. She still received love letters pledging devotion to her.

“Coming my way was a skinny beta walking his fattie girlfriend across the street from the train station to the steak house, presumably so she could put away a 36 ouncer and he could dab one of her chins.”

I know it always seems this way but I used to be 100 pounds overweight and pulled surprisingly attractive girls (7s and 8s or 6s and 7s depending on how hard you grade). I pulled thin attractive girls because internally i felt i ‘deserved’ to have a thin attractive girl even though i was not in good shape myself. You can be alpha and fat. I am 6’4 and some women do like ‘big’ guys who make them feel tiny/feel safe. HOWEVER, you have to be insanely over confident like the guy CH describes to keep them long term. I was not, so eventually they would start to check out/look at other prospects and then i would get needy and jealous and it would fall apart from there.

Thats why i love CH and rollo/the manosphere so much for teaching me game 🙂

My girls always eventually saw that even though I had confidence, i was a beta in the sense that i thought they were ‘amazing’ (would pedestalize and had one-itis; never cheated even though social proofing made random girls openly flirt with me sometimes in front my gfs).

Now that i am in good shape and have real self confidence and game (flirt openly in front of my plates, employ dread like a motherfucker, rigidly follow CHs 16 commandments so they only expect to get feelz hot sex and skittles from me) life is crazy better. I hooked up with 3 girls this weekend. And I met 2 more at a bar in a mixed set (3 girls 3 guys) where i went in solo had to AMOG the guys and a bitchy floozy, made them fuck off, isolated my target and got just her and her fun slutty friend to the next bar. Never would have had the balls to go into a lions den like that 2 years ago. All praise be to the Dark Lord CH!!

I demolished a bodybuilder with this line, “You’re so easy to talk to.” His girl laughed as she walked with me to dance. He was merely an accessory for the broad, like shoes or a purse. The body builder actually thought she would want to fuck him at some point.

Wolfie – CH himself shares a personal observation of a fat guy and a hot girl, as do numerous other posters… and you can look at video as well. But yet you wallow in your persistent, willful disbelief. Why is so hard to accept reality?

Dude ill never forget when i was in high school and this couple moved in next door to my parents. The man was early 30s or late 20s, in great shape, dressed well, had a brand new mustang in drive way and a full head of hair. Basically from what i know now about game, he could have been SLAYING it.

…He moved in with a FAT, OLDER, SINGLE MOM that he just wifed up. The moms daughter was already 10 years old i think, she became friends with my sister. She was pretty too lol pretty sure her absent dad was an alpha cad. the mom wore sweat pants and baggy t shirt everywhere, no makeup, shit pony tail and looked like a slovenly mess. That dude got up every morning and went to work to provide for some other man’s child and a way past expiration war pig. Fucking chilling…

Learn game fellas, it can save you from this fate. Know your value. Know that as a man, you can always improve your value.

It happens all the time…..handsome dude with a good job wifes up a slovenly shebeast with a couple of kids that treat him like shit. I just can’t figure it out. Some men must walk around with a sign over their necks that says “please shit on me” and only fat single moms can see it.

The takeaway is simple: money, looks, clothes, age, and even circumstances don’t matter in the end. Alphas can have any number of those in their favor, but the attributes don’t make the man, they are only adornments and more effect than cause.

Relax fat boy, I like to watch Paul Blart Mall Cop too, but only in Hollywood do fatties get the girl. Game can overcome many a weakness, be it mental or physical, in a man, but there is no such thing as gynecomastia suffereing pussy slaying gods.

I had a jiu jitsu teammate who was fat as hell, over 300 and short. His gf was hot AF. Saw it with my own two eyes. He was a guy who used to enforce for bookies and ready to fight at the drop of a hat and good at it.

Just through his actions he was able to become higher value than all the fit and soft spoken betas roaming the land. It’s true she could have had 10 other better looking guys, and indeed spinsters who understood little about even themselves would have pushed her to do so. But the walking moon’s confident stride and give no fucks attitude not only made him seem a better choice than said fit betas, but actually made him such. Respect to you fat guy, may your children adopt your attitude but not your weight.

> “not only made him seem a better choice than said fit betas, but actually made him such” ——— As we devolve from the lofty heights of K-Selection down into the rank sewer of R-Selection, it becomes increasingly difficult to square the Hamster’s devotion to pre-human mammalian barbarism with any civilized sense of propriety or decorum or manners or good taste [or talent or smarts or virtue or anything else even slighty more evolved than common vulgar thuggery].

… or a gold digger crying over losing his beta sugar daddy after him finding out about her wild night with Chad Thundercock. Not pictured: a few days later the fat beta forgiving her indiscretions and learning nothing from getting his first taste of the pill.

Related to this, the CH advice of “fake it til you make it” has reaped rewards for me. At one point in time I had to consciously try to act like fatty above. Now it happens automatically.

Case in point: on a date recently with the woman and she tried to start an argument about me not sharing my food with her. Years ago I would have crumbled and apologized, then given her free access to my plate, while harboring resentment over it.

Without having to think about it, I scolded her for trying to be a fatass, told her she should have ordered something else if she didn’t want her own food, and refused to let her have even a morsel of mine.

She began pouting so I ignored her and asked for the check. Paid, then got up and left as I thanked her for ruining our night with her childish behavior. She started following me and crying while pleading with me to stay.

I ignored her until she apologized to me, at which point I smiled, grabbed her, and kissed her. Then I took her to grab a few drinks before bringing her back home to smash.

This behavior would have been alien to me about 6 or 7 years ago, but now it comes naturally and I reap the rewards. Awesome.

Another report from the field. A long while back you posted about the Game inherent in a confident gait. Well I did an honest self appraisal and saw that while I had made strides in some areas, my walk looked like a Chinese CPA with hemorrhoids. So I practiced. At first it felt totally ridiculous, but as with all things that changed with time. These days I have a sort of low, slow, cowboy gait.

Well out with a plate during a break between 3 hour sexathons, and she’s at my side as we head for caffeine energy. And she turns to me and says, you know one of the most attractive things about you is the way you walk. For a guy my height (6 even ) its just catnip, she says. Yet another success for the Chateaux.

Looking for an old post on anti-Game. It all began with a friendly conversation I once had with a fat perimenapausal woman in an elevator and now she materializes from thin air wherever I go. She just complimented my shirt. My words to her henceforth are polite but perfunctory monosyllables. I now understand how a hot chick who made the mistake of being nice to that wierd guy in her class feels.

Deploying anti-game would be conclusive proof you care too much. Kill them with kindness.

What do you think about attractive women who still cannot handle unwanted attention despite receiving it their entire lives? It is their fault. They don’t have their shit together.

Same with attractive men (and touchdown celebrations): act like you’ve been there before.

These things take care of themselves because your measured/exemplary handling of what, absent your magnanimity, would develop into an awkward situation helps them more honestly self-appraise, count themselves unworthy, withdraw to save face, and more humbly approach you the next time. Drop hints that if she doesn’t end her faux-pas, you will be forced to call her out on it. It is quite white of you, after all. You are gallantly saving her the embarrassment. It doesn’t have to end in the mutual resentment that is the mark of the déclassé.

It boils down to one factor: the degree to which one’s mild contempt for a woman’s bullshit is more visible than one’s thirst for her sexuality. I guarantee that Shrek probably puts up with enough crap from Thumbelina to give your average player pause… And he responds with conspicuous disdain after yet another mind numbing trip through the uterine cycle. The young thang’s inner masochistic submissive is stimulated every time she pushes fatty to the brink of disposing with her. Come to think of it… I might actually be the fatty in question.

I tend to see the opposite. Vomitous, land manatee, female Hutts jerking the chains of whimpering but lissome young chaps. Break free, I yearn to scream, wrap your chain under the folds of its bewhiskered chin, get a purchase on its body and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze for victory. Fatties everywhere.

Tuesday 19 April 2016: All 95 of New York’s delegates to the Republican National Convention are allocated to presidential contenders in today’s New York Presidential Primary. [Rules of the New York Republican State Committee. Article XI. Rule 1.]

81 district delegates are bound to presidential contenders based on the primary results in each of the state’s 27 congressional districts. Each congressional district is assigned 3 National Convention delegates who are slated by the Presidential candidates prior to the primary. In each district:
If a candidate receives more than 50% or only 1 candidate receives 20% or more of the vote, that candidate receives all 3 delegates.

Otherwise, if at least 2 presidential contenders receive 20% or more of the vote, the candidate with the most votes receives 2 delegates and the candidate with the second most of votes receives 1 delegate.

Otherwise, if no presidential contender receives 20% or more of the vote, the party will elect 3 delegates without considering the results of the primary.
14 At-Large delegates (10 base at-large delegates plus 1 bonus delegates plus 3 RNC delegates) are bound to presidential contenders “winner-take-most” based on the statewide primary results. 11 of these delegates (the 10 base at-large delegates plus 1 bonus delegates) are elected at the state committee meeting.

If a candidate receives more than 50% of the vote, that candidate receives all 14 delegates.

Otherwise, the delegates are distributed proportionally to those candidates receiving 20% or more of the vote. Round fractions to the nearest whole number. If too few delegates are allocated, the candidate receiving the largest vote receives those the remaining delegates. If too many delegates are allocated, subtract those delegates from the candidate(s) who met the threshold but had the smallest number of votes.

Only 14 delegates are assigned based on statewide results, remaining 81 are CD by CD. If Trump gets over 50% in *all CDs*, he will get all the delegates. Otherwise, any CD with less than 50% for Trump=at least one delegate stolen by the Cuck team.

It’s similar in California: very few dels to win statewide and ~170 distributed CD by CD (but CDs are winner-take-all there).

I agree with your point, he’s gonna win big there. Just not all 95 delegates (and my estimate of 60-70 was probably too conservative).
It seems that the Republican race will be decided in the ocean blue California. Oh the irony, quite fitting.